Golden Snitch
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Alfred tries to convey to Arthur the wonders of Quidditch. Arthur is not amused.


The cool evening air greeted Alfred as he slowly opened the castle door, the wind whipping his face and tousling his hair. It had been a warm spring day, and the coolness which had settled with the setting sun was a welcomed change.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying the refreshing effect before lunging forward with determination, grinning over his shoulder at the owner of the hand he was clasping. "C'mon Arthur! Hurry up!"

An older boy of seventeen appeared through the doorway, a slightly amused but mostly reserved expression etched on his face. "Alfred, this is ridiculous," he tried to reason with the other, but offered no great resistance as he was pulled down the stairs and led through the grounds. "I was only joking!"

Alfred refused to hear any of it. Once an idea formed in his mind, nothing- not even a reluctant Arthur- could stop him. "But it's a really good idea!" he insisted, half running in his excitement. "You've gotta try it!"

It had all started earlier that day when Alfred had been explaining the wonders of Quidditch to his boyfriend, who had been busy writing something in his quick hand on a long piece of parchment in the library.

At some point, the Arthur had stopped his hand's movements and laid down his quill on the table, giving Alfred a weary sigh. "What is it that attracts you to Quidditch so much?" he asked carefully, running a finger down the spine of his Ancient Runes book before looking up and meeting Alfred's gaze with tired and yet genuinely intrigued green eyes.

Alfred had gaped at him for a moment before furrowing his brows and leaning back into his armchair. "I guess… I guess I never really thought about it."

Quidditch was, and had always been, more than just a sport for Alfred. Nor was it a pastime- it was a way of life. A parallel, an example for any success story. Training hard and daily practice helped one score the goals during the game and improved their game play. Strategy.

So was Alfred's lifestyle- every test was an enemy to overcome, every problem a beater ready to push him out of the game. A goalpost- what he strove for, an accomplishment. If he studied and tried hard in his personal life, then just like in the game, he'd reach his goals and score. For himself, and the better good.

And amidst it all, Arthur was his golden snitch.

But what was it about the game that enticed him to play over and over again? What compelled him to compete in a sport that had the potential of becoming violent and dangerous in a matter of a second? Was it the danger that attracted him? The adrenaline rush, the thrill? Or was it the competitive aspect, the appeal of saving the game for his team and proving himself more than capable?

"Flying," Alfred said suddenly, eyes shining with a new glaze of sheen as he met Arthur's gaze.

"I like flying the best. Kicking off into the air and feeling the wind brushing against you and pushing against your robes…looking around you and seeing into the distance and the silence that comes with it…" his voice was lowered in a steady pattern and ebbed excitement, the glow in his eyes growing with every word.

A faint flush colored his cheeks as he spoke- the same sort of blush he used to get when he would run down the stairs on Christmas morning as a young child. He would hold his breath until he'd see the brightly colored tree and the presents stowed beneath it. Matthew would appear a few minutes later, carrying his stuffed bear and whining about being woken up early. But he'd relent soon enough as he'd see the gifts and would forget all about being talked into sneaking down before mom and dad woke up.

Alfred had always been good in convincing people to see things his way. He was simply naturally talented.

By the time Alfred was done, he had noticed that Arthur had been looking at him with a tender look on his face, smiling warmly at him for no apparent reason. "Hey, um…I didn't say anything weird, right?" he asked the other nervously, looking away.

Rather than sobering, Arthur's smile turned into something that suspiciously resembled a smirk. He had leaned towards Alfred from the couch next to him and reached his arm out to him, caressing his cheek with the back of his hand.

"On the contrary, love," he said softly, meeting Alfred's gaze intently. "You sounded charming."

For a moment, it had looked to Alfred as if the other was about to close the gap between their mouths and kiss him, but instead the Ravenclaw had stood up from behind the table and stepped towards him, taking a moment to look around them before seating himself on Alfred's lap, shifting his legs and hips to adjust himself on the American's thighs.

Arthur's arms immediately went around Alfred's neck and hung themselves loosely while he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

"I would love to try…flying with you," he whispered in a low tone, resting his hands on top of Alfred's forearms. After a moment of comprehension, said Gryffindor's eyes widened and an excited grin etched across his lips.

"That's an awesome idea! Why didn't I think about it before?"

And without a further notice, he sprang up, forcing a confused Arthur onto his feet. "Come on! I'll show you!" he grabbed the other's hand and pulled him forward, conveniently forgetting about Arthur's books and bag. They could always be retrieved later on.

Which is how and why the pair found themselves in the Quidditch field a few minutes later, Alfred's broom in hand after it had been summoned on their way. Once they reached the middle of the field, Alfred let go of Arthur's hand, taking a moment to spare a quick glance around one of his favorite places in the school before turning back to the other, a warm smile on his face.

He set his broom down on the ground and raised his arm into the air, offering his hand to his boyfriend.

"Do you trust me?" he asked softly, tilting his head and taking in the hesitant and apprehensive look on Arthur's face. Once their eyes met, though, a reassured expression and a small smile appeared on the other's face.

"I must be barmy," Arthur muttered under his breath before taking a step forward and placing his hand inside Alfred's warm palm. "If I fall and break my neck, I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life."

Alfred grinned back at the other, closing his hand around Arthur's and mock saluting him with his free palm. "If you fall, which you won't, I'll just save you."

"Don't you always?" Alfred heard Arthur grumble sarcastically beneath his breath but paid it no heed, as the smile on the other's face was more than enough to tell him that he was ready. Brushing off any of his own doubts, he wrapped his free arm around the other's waist, pulling him closer.

"Besides, I'll always be holding you and be there to catch you if you fall," he assured Arthur softly, brushing his lips against the other's ear gently. With a careful gesture, he slowly turned the man in his arms around, waiting until the other's back was securely pressed against his chest before stepping towards the side and stopping on top of the firm wood that of his broom.

He tightened his grip on Arthur's hand and waist, lowering his palm to grasp the other's hip as he whispered under his breath the command that left them hanging in the air a few feet over the ground, balancing on the broom.

Flexing his fingers, Alfred could feel Arthur's stomach rising and falling quickly as the other inhaled sharply, freezing on the spot.

"Alfred F. Jones, get me down this instant," Arthur ordered in a low tone, barely audible over the sound of the blood pumping in Alfred's ears as they quickly gained height. Rather than go lower, Alfred steered them forward and higher, keeping a strong hold on his boyfriend as they finally stopped.

Slowly, keeping his eyes straight forward, Alfred bent his legs and pulled Arthur down gently, catching the wood of the broom beneath his knees and carefully seated himself, settling the other on top of his lap as they balanced haphazardly.

It was a stunt that took quite a lot of flexibility and balance, and even Alfred had a hard time with it. But at last, the two of them were sitting on the broom comfortably (as comfortable as you could on a broom, that is), one of them looking out into the horizon with an expression of rapture and the other with his eyes shut tightly and a slightly greenish complexion.

Alfred held the other close, wrapping his arms around his middle and delighting in the way he weighed down on his lap. But when he looked down at his face, his brows knotted in worry at the sickly complexion and the closed eyes.

"Relax, Arthur," he leaned forward and whispered softly in the other's ear, nuzzling the side of Arthur's face with his cheeks. "Open your eyes- it's beautiful up here."

He watched as Arthur drew in a shaky breath and slowly, slowly opened his jeweled green eyes that Alfred could spend hours looking into. The whiteness in his knuckles began to fade into a pale pink as his grip on the broom slackened slightly, allowing and entrusting Alfred with his well-being almost completely.

He nodded when Alfred asked him if he was okay, which was all Alfred needed to be assured.

"It… it's the same exact color," he heard Arthur whisper in an awed tone before the other turned his head back to him, looking intensely into his eyes. Chuckling softly, Alfred raised his hand gently as to not upset the balance and tucked a loose strand of hair behind the other's ear.

"Exactly like what?"

Arthur blinked and turned his head away, choosing instead to nestle the back of it in the crook of Alfred's neck. "Your eyes. Your eyes are the same color as the sky," he murmured softly, closing his own irises and breathing in deeply the fresh air.

Feeling his own face warm up despite their chilly surroundings, Alfred instinctively raised his arm and cupped Arthur's chin, brushing his cheek lovingly with his thumb before turning the other's head sideways and tilting his own, meeting his boyfriend's lips halfway.

It didn't take long before he felt Arthur push back against his lips into the kiss, shifting carefully and wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling him closer.

For a moment, realization dawned in Alfred's mind. He finally knew what attracted him to flying.

It wasn't the competitive edge in the game or the solitude to gather his own thoughts after all. It was having his own patch of sky to hold onto while in the arms of someone he loved.

* * *

I wrote this way back as a gift to my friend heliosia, with whom I had written a pottertalia roleplay. This ficlet was an omake to our roleplay, and was based on a drawing of haku's. If you'd like a link, feel free to message me! For reference, Alfred is in his sixth year and is in Gryffindor. Arthur is a seventh year Raveclaw.


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